The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [18]
The glowering eunuch’s disapproval meant nothing to Awa, who pitied him no more than she pitied herself and far less than she pitied Omorose. At least Omorose tried, which was more than could be said for Halim. If Awa were to be honest with herself, she would have admitted that she was relieved he remained so unapproachable lest Omorose turn to his thicker, warmer body when the wind pushed through the chinks in the stacked stones of their shelter. Quick in all her lessons, Awa had learned that if you are not the favorite you sleep alone all of the time, instead of most of it.
The Final Test
“There’s not enough meat to last out the winter,” the necromancer told them, the storm clouds hovering above them like a displeased father over a noisy cradle that had suddenly gone quiet. The three apprentices stood in front of the door to the hut he blocked with his withered body, their meager blankets bundled in their arms in anticipation of being allowed to set up before the hearth as they had the previous winter. The necromancer nodded at the bandit chief, who marched in front of the youths with three sword blades clutched in one bony hand. He planted the blades in a line where the hard-packed earth met the stone shelf that comprised the floor of the shack.
Omorose, Awa, and Halim looked at the sword hilts gently swaying at waist level like an iron harvest, the only crop this high, barren field would bear. Then one of them moved the slightest bit and it all happened very quickly. Omorose and Halim went forward and Awa jumped back, and as a peal of thunder came from the south they made their moves.
She had to go back for her, Awa thought as her tough, bare feet slid down the side of the gulley leading away from the hut. She had to turn around. She had to stop running or Omorose would die. Her feet did not listen, and the twilight fell around her as her eyes filled. Awa was afraid and so she was abandoning her friend, like a disloyal beast that knows only fear, that—
A pursuer came down the opposite side of the gulley but Awa was ready and ducked past him, snatching his femur to arrest her own dangerous momentum and sending the skeleton crashing into the ground where its left elbow blasted apart on a rock. She caught herself from falling, and seeing that no others were yet upon her, she grabbed a large stone. The skeleton scrambled up just as the rock caved in its skull, and down it went. She blasted its knee off, and with the long bone of its femur in one hand and the rock in the other she resumed her flight.
Omorose was scared, Awa knew this, scared just as Awa was, and hurt inside, just as Awa was. Awa tried to stop herself from remembering her former mistress’s smiles, her sad eyes, the nights when she went to her old slave and wrapped her arms and legs around her and sobbed quietly, Awa not daring to move lest Omorose pull away. She would come back—Awa lied to herself and knew it, but could not do otherwise for fear that she might slow for an instant and be caught by the new pair of skeletons that now chased her pell-mell down the steep crag; after she escaped she would come back and rescue Omorose.
Three steps separated Halim from the necromancer as the eunuch darted forward, and with the first step he drew a sword from the earth. The miserable old monster was quick but none were quicker than Halim, who had so carefully hidden his true strength and speed. Seeing the necromancer gape as he took his second step Halim grinned, for the bandit chief was only now moving forward on his left, and none were quicker than Halim as he brought the sword up underhanded, its point level with the necromancer’s stomach. The old man was not moving so fast now, his hands coming up far too slowly to intercept the sword, the first syllable of some incantation only now forming on his surprised mouth, and none were quicker than Halim